


Why Did You Grant Us This Depth Of Vision

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dubious Consent, Love/Hate, M/M, cherry-picking old EU elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-07-23 04:26:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: Maul was a very imperfect mirror.





	Why Did You Grant Us This Depth Of Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



  
Maul wondered sometimes (Always. Never. Always.) if he could kill his master when they were like this – Maul on his knees, Darth Sidious’s cock deep in his throat, the invisible hold on Maul’s throat, double-choking him.

He supposed he could, in theory. Humans had a lot of blood vessels in the crotch and thighs. And the human penis in an erect state was full of blood, too. In theory, all Maul had to do was (open up, suck and swallow) bite. He had nice, sharp teeth; Master himself liked to comment on this.

A good slave, Sidious always said, a good servant, one worth some pretty coin, should have a good set of teeth. One of the things you should check for, boy, when I’m dead and you’re the master.

(Maul had never been so stupid as to believe him. Master didn’t plan to either die or to share his title and his power.)

So, he needed only to bite, slash and rip some flesh – he could, even without the aid of the Force, he was strong enough – and be free. There were moments when he wondered why he hadn’t done so yet.

(A lie; he knew very well, knew the depths of his hate, of his devotion, of his hunger, of his cowardice - he knew very well and yet he couldn’t stop wondering. Imagining. Dreaming. Loathing himself for his dreams, for the inability to act on them. Both. Neither. There was a lie somewhere in his thoughts, but he couldn’t grasp it, or them, if they existed at all. Sometimes, Sidious taught him, the existence of the lie was the lie itself; sometimes, the thing which hurt, manipulated and deceived you was truth.)

‘You shall dwell on the feeling.’ Sidious yanked his head closer by his horns, leaned in, whispering, his voice husky and tremulous from thrusting, words coming apart like the bones of a kicked skeleton. ‘Helplessness. Impotent rage. Being used and cast away. Remember these. Meditate on them. Let them poison you – every poison is a cure and every cure can kill if dosed properly. Surviving a poisoning makes one strong and the Dark Side has no use for the weak. So channel _this_ into hatred and count the days, my apprentice; count the days until you’re ready to face me.’

Until that day, thought Maul bitterly, swallowing his master’s semen, letting him rub his cock on Maul’s mouth and cheek, wiping off the wet remains, _this_ is what I should really dwell on. This is what you really want to dwell on, Master, and so this must be what makes me your slave.

‘Fool!’ Suddenly, Sidious shoved him away with the Force, strongly enough to send Maul into the wall on the other side of the room. ‘What did I tell you about truth and lies? I _am_ your master and teacher – I lie and deceive, because this is the path of the Dark Side. But I’d not teach you wrongly.’ Sidious’s knuckles, gripping the edge of the table, were white, but Maul knew better than to mistake the dizziness after orgasm with true weakness. His master could still crush him with the Force, if he were stupid enough to make a move.

‘I would.’ Sidious smiled and his voice became gentler. Maul immediately tensed, experience breeding knowledge of what was to come. ‘And if you think you know me so _well_ , if you think you’re wise enough, think you’ve deciphered all of your teacher’s tricks, learned my lessons by heart, and can tell the truth from a lie… Let’s test it. I expect you in the training room in half an hour.’

Of course, his master had won. Had won and had punished him for getting defeated. Maul hadn’t expected anything else.

He supposed, washing blood from his body with freezing water, that his bleak acceptance was a part of the problem, perhaps the one bothering Sidious, perhaps the one introduced by him. A Sith shouldn’t meekly accept the future, a Sith should make it. A Sith should scheme, bide him time and fight – from the shadows, with cloak and dagger, if necessary. The Dark Side’s anger and hate should never cross the line into passively expecting; that idea reeked of the Jedi’s teachings.

Maul was far from the Jedi. He hated them and his Master with a burning passion- it’s just it never won over his instinct for self-preservation. Survival first, dignity, revenge and self-indulgent gloating over his fallen enemies, later. And Sidious was far beyond his reach (forever) now. He’d been the one to teach him almost from the very beginning – the Nightsisters’ training and lessons were now just a pale shadow in Maul’s memory – and he (had carefully cultivated) knew all of his techniques, strengths, weaknesses.

Until the day Maul learned enough to free himself from his master’s influence, create something truly his own, a form, a sanctuary in his mind, a new _perspective_ on the Dark Side (Himself. The galaxy. His enemies and his allies.), rebelling against Sidious would be utmost stupidity. Wasting one’s own great destiny.

If “the day” should ever come. But if not, being an apprentice to the most powerful being in the whole galaxy was a great destiny on its own. No need to jeopardise it.

His Master would punish him for these thoughts, one way or another, sooner or later, probably at the most unexpected moment. He’d mock Maul for it and he’d call it “gratitude, not much better than compassion” – like _he_ hadn’t been the one to teach Maul the power of patience. But Sidious would say he also taught him how to differentiate between patience and hesitation.

(There was very little in Maul which hadn’t been put there by Sidious. The failure of the apprentice was a failure of the Master. A mirror didn’t lie, changing right to left, but one could still be misled by the reversed image. Perhaps this was the key.)

In one of their sparring lessons, unavoidably turning into a display of punishment, Maul had told his master it was he who couldn’t differentiate between gratitude, compassion, sentimentality and a calm assessment of the situation and a survival instinct.

Sidious had almost boiled his bones with the Force Lighting for it, and given a long speech about how the Light Side – the weakness – hid itself under many names, costumes and disguise, and how almost all creatures were able to lie to themselves to justify it. “Most of the creatures prefer to follow. They’re born to serve and obey orders. Give them the power to decide and you end up with the current state of the galaxy – the meek, feeble, rotten Republic, led by a government eaten alive by doubts and fear. Fear of making any decision. Fear of making a mistake. Fear of being a failure and suffering consequences. And fear, my apprentice, is our best friend – but only when properly used, not catered to. Believe me, you do _not_ want to end up like the Republic, when I’m finished with it.’

Most of the creatures. Not Sidious, of course, who was above them all, and would prefer for his chosen one not to lower himself to the average level (but to serve exceptionally).

Exactly what one would expect from a wealthy nobleman who’d never needed to fight for scraps. Honour and dignity above survival. Being right above having shelter, food and clothing on your back. But Maul had seen enough – in his childhood days and during his missions – to know his master, for all his cruelty, arrogance and power, wasn’t the worst master in the universe. Far from it, actually. He’d provided Maul with so much – and continued to do so. To cling to him wasn’t an expression of gratitude or some other sentimental feeling, it was the pragmatic recognition of what Sidious was - the (mentor, teacher, master) best deal Maul could possibly get.

Maul hadn’t come from the palace – he couldn’t be a mirror, unless a distorted one. And of course, he sighed, sensing another cold, angry call through the Force, a human like his Master wouldn’t like seeing himself parodied.

Wouldn't like seeing himself at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to S.-G. for helping me with the SPAG issues! 
> 
> And I'm sorry, Goethe, for stealing your poem for a title.


End file.
